At Day's End

By jerjonji

Typical and usual disclaimer: jerjonji owns nothing except an over active imagination and the unusual habit of borrowing other people's characters for her own pleasure. An while she borrows freely from "Nobuhiro Watsuki, the creative mastermind, and owner of all RK, she does with great respect and love.

Chapter 1: Alone

Confronted by the undeniable truth facing her in the mirror each morning, the streaks of gray appearing in her jet-black hair, the lines showing under her eyelids, and the wrinkles showing on the back of her hands of mercy, Megumi was seriously depressed. She barely could lift one foot in front of the other, and forced herself to go into the office every day to treat her beloved patients. Not even the smallest ones whose tears turned to smiles at the bright red lollipops she offered after giving them a shot could warm the coldness in her heart. Death was knocking at her door and she was alone and scared, empty and afraid.

She sat in the evenings on her front porch, rocking gently, watching God paint the sky in watercolors, until the sunset faded away and the fireflies danced around her. She didn't feel any joy in the show. But her anger was slowly leeching away, and a hidden sorrow began to escape from its buried coffin. She refused to cry, refused to indulge in useless memories, refused to be pitied, refused to feel sad, so she felt grey. Grey became her favorite color and she wore it constantly. "It matches my hair," she joked with her receptionist.

"But you look so pretty in greens and blue," she protested. "They bring out the colors of your eyes."

Megumi waved her off. "Nonsense, child. I'm too old to care if my clothes match my eyes." And in her heart, she believed her words. She felt older than creation of the world. She'd seen too much pain, hurt, and injuries to feel otherwise, and she had no one left to share it with. Grey is the color of my heart, she thought. Grey is the color of my life. Grey is the color of my soul.

It was the sense of aloneness that bothered her the most. She couldn't bear to visit with Yahiko and his brood only to have to force herself to leave and return to the empty house that never heard her own children's laugh or tears. So she went less and less and gradually she became the old forgotten auntie everyone feels responsible for and guilty about for not taking better care of her.

And now, she sits alone at night. No warm body to chase away the night chills. No loving arms to hold her tight against the fears of death. No laughing eyes to chase away the doubts of growing old and ugly. She sits alone, on her front porch, her hands quietly in her lap, her eyes west towards China, no hope in her heart or eyes. She sits and rocks and remembers and the sky turns grey matching her mood, her clothes, and her life.